


A Collection of Moments (Life in the Black)

by rocketpool



Series: Idealists Dreamers and Thieves [3]
Category: Firefly, Leverage
Genre: M/M, because sometimes you hurt your characters, collated from LJ, contains a very little violence, there's plenty of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketpool/pseuds/rocketpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two ships, two crews... Perhaps the most amusing, slightly awkward <s>friendship</s> business arrangement two sets of people could possibly agree to. (As though the crew of <i>Leverage</i> weren't awkward enough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things Never Go Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> This is me gathering up my scattered bits and pieces of this verse. Some were comment fic, some were 3-sentence fics. I tried to group them by tone. Standard note that I don't translate the butchered Chinese.

They’re standing back to back, a pair of guns in Mal’s hands and a large, rather heavy lookin’ piece of engine in Eliot’s, and there ain’t either one of’m looking much happy about it.  
  
“Well this is just _yeh lu jwo duo luh jwohn whei jian guay_ ,” Mal grunts, turning to look when the clunking and shouting gets closer, the Reavers not so slowly making their way through the maze to where they’ve gotten stuck, “and I’m of a mind to take back what I said ‘bout claimin’ this gorram piece of _gosset_.”  
  
“Damn straight,” Eliot grinds out as the first of’m breaks through some of the grating, “cos if we get out of this alive I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you walk away with it!”  
  
The Reavers are fast, but Eliot is faster; Mal ain’t never seen someone move that fast that weren’t River, and even then, he didn’t see it his own self, only on account of his crew. Mal holds up his end, but it works out mostly to coverin’ Eliot’s ass and killin’ those he misses with a bullet between the eyes. It takes near an hour, and Mal’s near out of bullets, but somehow, somehow they make it out of the damn mess alive.  
  
~  
  
Mal's at the entrance to the infirmary, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Simon work. He feels the presence at his shoulder more'n he hears it. And that just ain't right, given the man weren't even in the war, isn't a soldier nor any kind of fighter neither. Not that it's any of his business.  
  
"Your man's quite the _wo hu chung long_ ," he says without looking. "Kept my people covered when things went south."  
  
"It's what he does best," Nate agrees softly. Mal can smell the whiskey, and he wonders not for the first time just how close Nate is to his crew, and Eliot in particular. Not that he could give a ruttin' gorram if either of them is sly. It's just good to know if a man like Ford is willin' to sacrifice most things for a soul; Mal wouldn't want him and his to be what got traded over. "Mr. Tam doesn't seem to do so badly himself."  
  
"A regular prodigy, from what I hear tell," Mal says. "Should have your boy patched back together in no time. Without his usual scars even." As if on cue, _Serenity_ shudders, shaking and tipping, and Simon glances over his shoulder at them. He says nothing, but Mal can see that tetchy look in his eyes before leaning back over Eliot. "Assumin' we don't fall out of the sky." He turns and shouts, torn between the bridge and the engine room. "Wash! Kaylee! _Juh shi suh mo go dohng shee_?"  
  
~  
  
"Cap'n?" Hardison asks, eyes wide like he wants to hide. "We, uh, got a wave from Sophie. She should be done and on her way back. Soon. Ish."  
  
"Great," Nate says without more than slowing to listen to him. He could damn well use a whiskey. _Leverage_ should be up and away from the world already.  
  
"And..."  
  
Nate stops. "And what?"  
  
"Got a live wave from _Serenity_. Reynolds. For you."  
  
Nate blinks, eyes clearing as he puts two and two together. " _Rio shao gou shi bing_!" he growls. Hardison just steps out of his way as he aims for the cockpit. "Those _chwen joo are luhn gohn_. Is it _bai hih mohn_ to ask that we don't live as if _tian fuhn di fu_?"  
  
He hits the button on the vid screen and sees Malcolm Reynolds looking mighty pissed off. Behind him are Parker and Eliot; she's pouting and he's got his arms crossed like as if they weren't, he'd throttle her.  
  
"I see you found my people," Nate says cordially.  
  
"You could say that. Though to be truthsome, I'd be preferrin' to send'm home. Sooner, rather than later, if'n that's alright."


	2. The strange friendship of Spencer and Cobb

Flowers are hard to come by in the black, though even in the wilds of most rough backwater planets there's somethin' to come by. Not that Jayne would know flowers from weeds, 'cept for how his mama taught him to give a real lady roses. But still, he goes and he finds himself a nice batch of carnations. Kind lady even figured on a way to dye them so's they'd have a touch of unnatural colors.  
  
He gets the blue ones, cos hell. If he's gonna do this to a man, he might as well match his damn eyes. Kaylee'd get a kick out of it, he knows, and that there? Would be his saving grace.  
  
It's a tricky thing. The timing had to be just right, cos it ain't like Mal and that Ford guy ever go an' plan on bein' on the same rock at the same time. And if he got'm too soon, well, they wouldn't be much good by the time he got to use'm.  
  
And then there's the fact he's got to be freakishly quiet. Man's got ears like... well, sometimes Jayne gets to wonderin' if he ain't a reader. Though when he has the thought, River looks at'm like he has three heads so Jayne figures he ain't.  
  
So he's careful like, and silent. And Eliot don't even stir. Parker catches him in the corridor, but she just giggles at him and slips away toward the bridge. Jayne don't expect he'll get to see the fruits of his labor (aside, of course, from the picture he sends as a wave to Kaylee while Eliot's still out cold), figures the man will catch on afore he leaves his bunk.  
  
Then again, he hadn't accounted for the fact that Eliot ain't much of a morning person. So when he stumbles out to breakfast with the rest of _Leverage_ 's crew... well. A crown of flowers is quite a sight to see on such a violent man....  
  
~  
  
Eliot's up at the bar at the heart of the trading post on Persephone, pretending as like he's watching those pretty, naked legs walk back and forth while in truth keeping half an eye on the curtained table Nate's sitting at. They're meant to leave their weapons in the locker upstairs, but you never could tell with clients. Not these days, maybe not ever. Everybody always wants the upper hand, after all.  
  
And Eliot? Well, he's Nate's upper hand in a pinch.  
  
He relaxes, though, when the curtain pulls aside, and the two men sitting with Nate and Sophie slide out of the booth, shaking hands before leaving. Nate's got this look like maybe their client's trying to con them, but far as Eliot's concerned, at the moment that's an all clear.  
  
And then Jayne steps up to the bar. Eliot just looks at him sideways and the guy has the presence of mind to put his hands up. "Truce. Just want a beer."  
  
Eliot grins. Truces don't mean much more than pause round these parts, and most of all to Eliot. He owes the man for that thing with the flowers that Nate said he wasn't allowed to punch him for. Punching would have been easy, and quick.  
  
Eliot sort of wonders if Nate was feeling sadistic.  
  
But then again, Hardison made him promise to be nice. Or nice enough, anyway. He's making friends with their pretty engineer, is utterly fascinated by the way Wash flies. So. Eliot can be nice, and still get even.  
  
"They make a great Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster," he says. "If'n y'ain't ever had one, you should."  
  
Jayne looks surprised, and suspicious, but Eliot just toasts him with the end of his whiskey and tosses it back. Nate's motioning that it's time to wander off, so he'll have to wait for a wave to find out if the man ever drinks it.  
  
~  
  
Jayne ain’t even sure what Badger said exactly, ‘cept it was somethin’ about Ford and Badger always did manage to open his gorram mouth and land himself in Mal’s _luhn gohn_. Now Jayne, he knows the Captain’s always gonna make things right for his crew, so he threatens and gets loud and he just lets ride til he gets a signal from Mal or Zoe that he can finally kick a little ass, and he knows Eliot’s much of the same mind ‘cept for how he’s a bit more soldier like. Which is all to say he can’t but help laughing when Eliot stands, smoother’n silk and twice as fast as River to connect fist to Badger’s face, and damn but didn’t the huen dahn look surprised when he fell.  
  
~  
  
“Were you just … talkin’ to yer gun?” Eliot asks, stopping halfway between the mule and the next batch of cargo.  
  
“ _Gwon ni tze jee duh shr_ ,” Jayne responds, but Eliot could swear he was blushin’, whether from pride or embarrassment he’s not sure he wants to know. “Ain’t no business o’yourn what I do with Vera.”


	3. Even flowers bloom in the desert

The man looks familiar, in a vague sort of way, like there’s something half glimpsed in a dusty memory from his most… uncomfortable days with the military. Ain’t just that, though, oh no, the way he even moves is distinctive, and Eliot knows without thinkin’ that the man weren’t always a Shepherd, assumin’ that the man really did take up the cloth and it ain’t just the most convenient, most peaceful cover. Except for how Eliot can’t quite put his thumb on it, not yet, but he will…  
  
~  
  
"It's still violence you know," River says, hanging impossibly upside down from the bulwark to stare at Eliot's handiwork, "when the knife slides in swift and sure and the guts spill out all over the table, and your hands are red, are red, are red, are red..."  
  
"Maybe," Eliot says back, surprising himself with how much he ain't growling, not even pausing to look up as his blade thunks just a little too hard into the cutting board while he slowly adds strawberries to the pile of chopped cherries, raspberries and pomegranite (and without makin' a fuss over how much he should be doing somethin' else with these). "But this way Jayne ain't losin' his guts, with a bonus of bein' tastier."  
  
~  
  
"What did… You... you..." Hardison just sputters, staring at the console, or what was his console, his beautiful, shiny, well wired, perfectly programmed, glorious piece of machinery, and now... now...  
  
"What?" Jayne says, his mouth so full of apple Hardison can feel it on his face. "Was it important or somethin'?"  
  
~  
  
How she ends up on _Leverage_ as often as she does, Eliot can never figure out. But here she is again, peekin' round the open hatch into his quarters. Just one big eye and a mess of hair. Watching.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at her. "Need somethin' River?"  
  
"Earth that was," she says, as though that explains everything. When he doesn't say somethin' right off, she goes on with, "... How do you have so much from a place that's dead? Swims around in your head like memories but they're not." For just a brief moment, he's offended. Most people don't bother to find out if he's more than just _da chung wu dahn_ , after all. She blinks at him and tips her head, pushing the hatch open a little farther. "The metaphor is illogical. You don't like guns."  
  
Eliot chuckles a little. Should'a known better, really; girl's a reader after all. He shrugs in answer to her original question. "Dunno, darlin'. Always been fascinated. And I've collected a few things."  
  
He gestures at the far side of his quarters. River slips inside, footsteps making barely a whisper as she crosses the room to peer at them. From the look on her face, you'd almost think the stuff was magic.  
  
~  
  
Their laughter echoes, bouncing off _Serenity_ and _Leverage_ 's hulls and out into the canyon. No one knows quite what to make of them, or what in hell the two of'm think they're doing. What cause is there for makin' old engine bits pink, anyway?  
  
Hardison lets out another guffaw at somethin' Kaylee says, and she blushes up a storm before flicking paint at his overalls. He flicks paint right back at her, droplets scattering across her cheek and hair. And oh, then it's on. Waves of paint end up bein' throw around by the bucket-fulls, splattering against them and the ships and the canyon alike.  
  
"How'n the hell you plannin' on washin' that off?" Mal grouses, and it isn't clear if he means off the people or off of the hulls.  
  
~  
  
"No!" Eliot says emphatically. Parker tries opening her mouth to argue, to make a point, to ask why, but Eliot just shoves a finger under her nose. "Because you've always gotta _jin joh bu chi chi fah joh_ , and when you do, it always _gwai ma jeow_!"  
  
She pouts as he stalks of. "Never lets me have any fun," she mutters to herself, and wanders out into _Serenity_ 's cargo hold. The job will be done in a few more days, and her and Eliot will be back on _Leverage_. She's starting to miss her cargo hold, the familiar catwalks and loops that she's got set up just so. _Serenity_ 's not so bad, of course, and Parker shimmies up the rails to the ceiling using just her hands.  
  
It just isn't the same, though, so eventually she just lands light as a cat on the catwalk.  
  
"She misses you too," River says earnestly. Parker jumps a little - she hadn't expected anyone to be there, but River's even quieter than Eliot when she wants to be. River steps up close to peer over Parker's shoulder to the floor below. "He doesn't like fun. Fun means getting hurt, world going upside down and falling through the black where he can't catch you." Below them, Eliot steps into view, Simon trailing behind him ticking off a list of medical supplies. "Doesn't want to lose more family where he can't follow after... My brother doesn't like fun either."


End file.
